


My Blood

by lordelannette



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Best Friends, Borderline Personality Disorder, Bucky gives him those hugs, Childhood, Isolation, M/M, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, Neglect, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Therapy, Violence, baseball bat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 07:23:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16280183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordelannette/pseuds/lordelannette
Summary: Bucky hadn't been there in the beginning, but then one day he was and it changed everything.





	My Blood

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Stucky fic so forgive me if its a bit uncharacteristic, I'm trying to get a feel of both characters while incorporating my own style of writing.  
> The first chapter is just to get a feel of how it will be taken by readers but I'm thinking probably 4 or 5 chapters at max. Nothing incredibly long unless I start going crazy typing away.  
> I got the idea for this fic after watching the new music video of "My Blood" by Twenty-One Pilots so if you have seen the video then you will pretty much know what this fic will be about and if you haven't watched it yet, I HIGHLY recommend watching it even if that means it will spoil this fic because it is a true work of art.
> 
> Please enjoy!

He hated this place. It’s white walls and white tiles made his world seem bland, bland, bland and a bland world was not what he had envisioned for his life. Then again, Steve hadn’t really envisioned anything but he was certain that this wasn’t it.

“Steve.” 

And as much as he hated this room, he hated that voice even more. Because at least the room could be quiet and at least he could tune out the drowning walls that made him want to go insane. 

Well…

“Steve, how are you today?”

He stilled his long, thin fingers that were picking at the white fabric that covered his arms, scratching at his wrists. The last thing Steve wanted to do was actually look at the woman and he smothered the need to please the doctor, so he kept his gaze directed at his feet. He frowned at the white keds that were tied tightly and neatly on his feet. His fingers ached to have a marker and make all the white fade away stroke by stroke but he didn’t get to let that thought go far as suddenly black converse were being pushed into his space and getting tangled with Steve’s own feet.  
The corners of Steve’s mouth tugged upwards because he knows those shoes. Steve let his gaze travel up the legs that those shoes were attached to and he doesn’t have to let his attention travel far because Bucky is right there. The brunette slid his chair as close to Steve as he could, letting his leg flush up against Steve’s. He brought his eyes up to meet Bucky’s and the very moment they met-- bright blue’s melting into liquid pools of silver-- identical smiles were washing over each of their faces as they looked at one another. 

Through his peripheral, he could see the doctor tilt her head to the side and he knows her question before she even asks. 

“How are you feeling today, Steve?”

Because it’s always the same questions. The same session over and over. And he didn’t want to answer those questions. He was tired of her always asking and always looking at him so he didn’t look at the doctor, just kept his attention on Bucky because Bucky is what was important. Not that woman. And honestly, just who did this woman think she was to demand such things of him? Steve clenched his jaw hard.

“Stevie,” Bucky leaned in to murmur into his ear. Steve could feel his lips ghost against the shell of his ear and the arm that Bucky snaked around his shoulder caused a shudder to course through his smaller frame.  
“You gotta answer her,” the baritone of Bucky’s voice felt gentle against Steve’s skin. Achingly familiar in a way that sent goosebumps trailing up his arms and legs. “The faster you answer her questions, the faster we can leave, remember?” 

And wasn’t that what Steve wanted? To leave and get as far away from this room and the doctor as he could? Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes. 

Steve pressed his back into the warmth that Bucky’s arm provided and nodded his head in agreement. Bucky knew he hated this place, what this place stood for, what it meant for Steve. He dragged his eyes back towards the poised woman sitting in her elegant armchair waiting for his response, pen poised and red lips smiling warmly at him. Too warmly. His frown crept back onto his face. He shouldn’t be here. Why was it that only he could see that? 

Bucky obviously didn’t miss the change on Steve’s face. He never missed anything if it involved Steve and that was something that Steve had been dependent of from the very first day they had met. Bucky is who took care of him when no one else could. He was all that Steve had and it had been that way for a long, long time.

However, when Steve made no sudden move to respond to the woman and his eyes began to harden by the second, Bucky’s other hand inched its way onto Steve’s thigh and settled just on the inside of Steve’s left knee. The effect was instant and Steve could feel his shoulders loosen, his features softening by the second because Bucky is what he needed. Not the doctor or her pills or her talking… he didn’t need any of it. He didn’t want any of it. 

It felt like he stared at Bucky’s hand forever, letting the minutes drift by without concern, because it was solid and warm and real. He stared for a long while trying to get the words the doctor wanted to hear to spill off of his tongue. They were there, right on the tip, but it was as if he couldn’t find the will for them to come forth. Because if they did then--

Steve swallowed hard and brought his gaze up to Bucky. His eyes were wide, scared, but Bucky looked at ease like always, slightly slouched in his chair, with his hair hanging around his face and grinning as if he hadn’t had the slightest care in the world. Steve’s mouth twitched to copy the gesture and as he did, Bucky glanced pointedly at the woman in front of them, nugging Steve’s shoulder with his own. 

Steve sighed dramatically and relaxed into his chair, shoulders and spine slouching, with his grin brightening his face. 

“I’m doing great actually.”

“Good, good,” the woman smiled. “Do you want to share why you are doing so great? I don’t mean to pry--” 

Yes you do, Steve thought dryly. It was her job after all. 

“--but last week you didn’t talk once through any of our sessions. Care to explain, Steve?”

No. No. No. No. 

“I just didn’t feel like talking,” Steve answered. 

The doctor didn’t blink. “But now you do?” 

“I… guess so.” 

“Why is that?” 

Steve’s eyes flash towards the woman. This is why he doesn’t like to talk because it just brings more talk and more questions. 

“I. Don’t. Know.,” he responded. His brows furrowed as the doctor’s pen began gliding across her notepad. The ballpoint scribbling against the paper scratched against his eardrums.

She looked back up at him. “Have you talked to your father lately?” 

Steve chewed on the insides of his cheek, feeling his heart rate pick up at the thought of his pa. It was because of his dad that he was here, surrounded by the white walls and endless questions and cups of pills that made his head feel fuzzy. It was his dad’s fault. If he could just see that there was nothing wrong with--

“No.” 

The doctor frowned. “Steve,” her tone was full of disappointment. “You said you were going to speak to him. The guest logs show that he comes during visiting hours every day for the past two weeks.” 

“I know.” 

“You don’t speak to him while he’s here?” 

“No,” he clipped out. That damn pen began to work again. Steve watched it race from side to side. He wished he could leap up and rip it from her hand and throw it at the wall. Hopefully the fucking thing would explode and take some of that white away. 

“Are you still angry at him?” she pried, hesitantly but with disguised purpose. And really, wasn’t that the question that practically drove Steve’s very life? He couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t angry at his pa. Even before... all of this... the relationship between Steve and his father was held by nimble threat, teetering dangerously on a few strands that only his mother could keep together. But then, when everything did happen, no one was there to hold the pieces together and it fell apart with ease, dissolving right before Steve's very eyes. His father had been too occupied with a glass of whiskey to even notice. 

“Just tell her Stevie,” Bucky was leaning into him again. He turned his blonde head to the side, looking at Buck, trying to find some form of comfort in all of this mess. The woman followed his line of sight.

“It’s none of her business,” Steve muttered, low enough that only Bucky would hear. He knew he was being stubborn but dammit, he deserved to give them hell after everything they had done-- were doing-- to him. 

Bucky moved his arm up from Steve's shoulders, clasping the back of Steve's skull and pulling him in close. “She’s just trying to help," Bucky whispered and pressed their foreheads together, looking down into Steve's eyes. “We need to let her.” 

So, with a deep breath, Steve did just that. 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


End file.
